


And the rest is History

by Killo89



Series: Hetalian stories [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Historical Hetalia, Rebellion, Revolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 21:09:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11699940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killo89/pseuds/Killo89
Summary: Naples has had a Republic. It lasted one year before it was torn apart by the Kingdom of Spain, tearing a nation’s dreams into pieces. Said nation became a province once again and therefore had to watch the world from aside, forgotten.





	And the rest is History

**Author's Note:**

> This was written at 3 am while I was high on caffeine for Spamano Week 2017 and is also posted on Tumblr.  
> Oneshot about a revolution in Naples in 1647/1648.

South Italy was far from pleased. He really had the feeling he was being overlooked. He was mad. He didn’t like it. He admitted it, he was not an adult, but he was not a child either! His decisions were as important as anyone else’s, and he felt like fighting for his right of speaking.

He was still under Spain’s control, but that was not the actual problem. The thing was, Spain was at war. War meant losses. It means taking money.

And who did he have to take money from? He was literally fighting his old province, being the Netherlands, and all the gold he could find in the Americas wasn’t enough. Hell, even the gold South Italy found in the Americas wasn’t enough, and yet Spain dared to ask for more money.

Well, no. He didn’t truly ask. He took it, without his consent.

South Italy couldn’t say he wasn’t used to this. As a mere province of his kingdom, he understood he had a role to play in the expense of the Spanish crown, but it was just too much.

It began back in 1630. Madrid put upon Campania more and more taxes. The viceroy even attempted to set up economical reforms, but fortunately, the nobility was able to overthrow him.

South Italy did his best. He worked harder, he somehow managed to meet up Spain’s expectations regarding money. But then, the world power demanded more. In this year of 1647, he established a tax on fruits, and it had been the last straw.

The personification of South Italy lived in Naples since some times. He used to live in Spain’s physical house, but after he hit puberty, he asked to go back to Naples, and his suggestion had been thankfully accepted. He couldn’t bear to live  _with_  Spain anymore. It was perhaps hormones of an adolescent speaking, but he needed time in his own home, like everyone. Moreover, it was easier speaking with his human bosses when he was in the city they governed from.

Spain had expressed how sad he would be for South Italy to leave his sides, yet managed to put up a smile when he departed for home on a Spanish ship.

After he reached Naples, he was assigned to a house near his boss’. His life was a bit more difficult alone: he did not have the servants Spain had and actually had to do more chores than before, but it was only for him, and not to please the other idiot, so he was in fact okay with it. Although his house wasn’t the cleanest, it was decent and he could get job done in there!

Well, he didn’t have a lot of job, actually. He was just a province. National stuff where handled by Spain, he only had the local matter for himself, but that was sufficient to him, as he already had to overwork himself to meet up Spain’s need of money.

But a tax on fruits?

It really was rubbing salt in an open wound. He couldn’t take it anymore, and his people were in the same state. He was tired of this routine of work, tired of blindly obeying Spain and tired of being… nothing.

His people rebelled. They did, truly!

On the seventh July of 1647.

South Italy was with them, in the streets, demanding to see the viceroy, the duke of Arco. And he was  _fucking_  glad. He had this weird feeling of… freshness, like he mattered for once. He was acting against Spain, he had dreamed of it for seven years… It was an unsure path, nothing was certain in wartime, but at least he did something and did not stay the puppet Spain wanted him to be.

Because no matter how nice he was on the outside, Spain was a freak. A weirdo, a creep, everything. He wanted so much from Romano it became scary. Yes, he always soothed him down with words, he had a mellifluous tone each time he addressed to him, he had a smile covering his face and always niceties to whisper. In the facts, it was the opposite. South Italy felt like he was treated like shit and he was. He knew it. He convinced himself of it. He was a province, for god’s sake. Spain had many provinces, in no way he was special. He was just a source of gold, money and power against France.

France always voiced his desire to have control over the Italian peninsula, but never managed to get it. Here was the source of their enmity: Italy could belong to one nation only. So they fought. And the Netherlands rebelled, along with Belgium. Spain had therefore three fronts to fight on: the Netherlands, Catalonia and North Italy, although France’s attacks always seemed so weak and random.

He had a chance to leave Spain’s grasp. He was perhaps able to stand up on three fronts, but a fourth one, intern one, could make the thing unbearable.

Once the rebellion in Naples happened, South Italy received two letters. From Spain, of course, but another one coming from France.

He didn’t dare first reading Spain’s letter. He kept it two days closed, and read France’s one instead, which was written in Latin:

“ _Dearest South Italy, little brother,_

_I am deeply overjoyed by your rebellion against the Spanish authority. You and your people deserve more than a tyrant draining the life out of you all. I am and will forever be a strong advocate for Italian independence, as you know already. You have all the support I can give. Know, little brother, that I am eager for you to join my side to fight the Spanish threat and reduce to nothing the power of the Habsburgs. I pray for your safety and success._

_With kindest regards,_

_Kingdom of France.”_

 

However, the night of the 10th of July, the day before Masianello would have to meet the duke of Arco, viceroy, Romano dared reading the letter. He had to know what Spain felt about his rebellion and his meeting with the viceroy.

Just opening the letter sent his heart into a crazy rhythm. His shaking hands couldn’t hold the paper properly, he had to put it down on a desk and taking a deep breath before focusing his sight on the gently written words. As expected, it was not written in Latin, but Spanish:

“ _South Italy, sweetheart,_

_I am concerned about the situation at your home. I have not been told the full details, all I know is some people rebelled. Are you safe? Who are those people? Members of the nobility? The bourgeois?_

_I want to know if you are involved in this rebellion whatsoever. You know I do not tolerate treason, nor do I accept uprisings. If anything goes wrong, I am ready to send ships to fight on your-_ my _ground. If all you have is a request, please make it, instead of trying to fight me. I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart, but I will not hesitate if you show any kind of enmity towards me._

_I miss you dearly and wonder if, one day, you will come back at my home to live with me again. Wartime takes most of my time, but I would make sure I give you enough attention, my dear. I hope you are fine and safe, and will answer this letter in short time._

_I can’t stand you so far away from me, it has been a long time since we last met. I suggest we meet on the 15 th of July, to have some time together again._

_With all my love,_

_Kingdom of Spain.”_

 

Of course, South Italy had expected it. Spain played the nice card, but he was no fool, at least, not anymore. They met only thrice since he left Spain’s home, because they both had been busy, but this early meeting was a sign Spain was afraid.

Afraid that the situation might slip away from his control and become a threat. If he were to come here, he would only scold him. South Italy knew it, he would receive a lecture hidden behind well-meant words. He would perhaps even guilt him into obedience, but Romano would not fall. He was not his brother. This thing worked on Veneziano, not on him.

Therefore, he agreed on the date of the meeting. He answered France’s letter first, though. He told him that he was ready to act against Spain and would do his best to overthrow the Spanish threat. He told him he was ready to join his sides, as long as France helped him in his revolution.

Regarding Spain’s letter, he tried to keep his emotions sealed when writing and avoided Spanish and chose Latin instead. He perhaps cared a bit for the idiot, but his own wellbeing mattered more for once; he had to sound both menacing and strong. He accepted the date of the meeting, telling Spain to come to his place and spend some time, as much as he wanted.

That he was ready to welcome him in  _his_  home.

* * *

Spain was to arrive in some minutes and Romano was… out of it. Masianello had an interview with the viceroy and didn’t even know what had been said during this discussion. Masianello refused to tell him anything and dismissed both him and the crowd of people chanting for him.

He was kind of afraid that it did not work out, that Masianello had been threatened of death. He was the head of the rebels, he was needed.

He didn’t have any arguments to counter Spain’s most than plausible verbal attacks. Spain was going to hurt him emotionally, he knew it, but he was ready to face him, although he was shaking from head to toes and almost drank himself to coma with wine.

The knock on the door eventually came and South Italy was startled. He jumped from his chair and ran silently to the door. He rapidly touched his cheeks to calm himself down and furrowed his brows to show Spain how unwanted this little visit was. And he opened the door.

And Spain was here, suddenly. A bright smile on his face, casual clothes on. His happiness seemed genuine but Romano knew better. It was all a trap. A masquerade. He was sometimes sad he grew out of his child clothes. Grew out of the ignorance he lingered in, younger. Because now he saw, he knew what was on Spain’s mind just with a glance. That’s what happens when you spend so much time with someone.

Unfortunately, what South Italy saw in those eyes was not pleasing, far from it.

He was ready to shake hands with Spain, but the bigger nation took him by the shoulders to place a kiss on each of his cheeks, which South Italy automatically mimicked.

Damn it. He wanted their greeting to be cold and formal, not this… familiar! Arg, well, he had to deal with it now.

“This is so great to see you again, Romano. I am glad you answered my letter, I was getting worried, you know?”

He was speaking Spanish. South Italy hesitated. He could answer in Latin, but would he do it? He didn’t dare. What a weakling.

“I know, you told me so in your letter. How was your trip?”

“Kind of nice. The sea was pretty calm and we had no obstacle to overcome. It was peaceful.”

“I see. Come sit. Do you want wine?”

“I’d love it.”

Romano closed the door and led him to the kitchen table where a bottle of wine was standing. He took two old glasses of a wooden shelf and brought them to the table. He poured wine in both and sat down in front of Spain.

The Spanish nation took the glass in his hand and tasted it slowly. He took little sips until the glass was empty, and between each sip, he glared around him, observing the house his little protege was living in.

“It is a nice house you live in, Romanito. I like the style.”

“Ah? Thank you. I like it here.” He answered, pouring another glass of wine to Spain who had already emptied his.

“I’m not sure I should allow you to drink so much wine” Spain muttered, pointing at South Italy’s glass. “You’re still pretty young, aren’t you?”

“I’ve always drunk wine. Even at your home.”

“Yes, but I was here to watch over you. Do you often get drunk alone here?”

“Not really. The wine is for special occasion.”

Spain just hummed for an answer. He was avoiding the burning topic for now, when will he break the silence again?

South Italy was on the verge of breaking down. He was so scared of Spain’s reaction. He knew he was able to switch between this sappy and happy-go-lucky personality to the crude and awful one he used in war. Or when angry.

“Romanito, you know… I’d like it if you explained me what happened recently.”

Oh, he was taking that approach.

“You mean, how my people rebelled because you are asking too much out of them? That’s self-explanatory, even the dumbest of idiots would understand.”

“What am I asking too much? Can’t you give me a clear reason, please? You know I’m open for discussion, you should have told me before revolting.”

Lie. That’s a lie. He never listens to anyone except himself or his boss. He never would have listened.

“The money. The recent tax on fruits. I can’t take it, Spain. I can’t give you this much money for this war of yours. I don’t have it, that’s simple. I’ve worked like a madman for years already, trying to help you in this goddamn war and supporting myself financially, but it simply isn’t working. And the men you’re forcefully taking from me, when are they set to come back? You can’t use my people as canon fodder anymore. If you continue like this, if you don’t remove the taxes or exploit me this much again, I’m declaring independence. With France’s help.”

This was the ultimatum. Spain’s face visibly darkened at the mention of the name and Italy froze in place. What will he do. Will he hurt him? Will he slap him? Will he just walk away? He couldn’t tell and that scared him to death.

Spain stood up, the wineglass still in hand. His gaze shifted to the luxurious collection of plates stuck to the wall.  What was he going to do with this? Throw them of anger? Break them?

Italy kind of loved these plates, he really wanted them intac…

And no. He broke one. Dropped it on the floor motionlessly. Spain’s face was focused on the debris of the plate and smiled to himself. He then stared at Romano with an empty faux-smile.

“You know, Romanito, I didn’t like that tone of yours. I have been the nicest of caretakers towards you, and I expect you to stay in your place. You don’t understand how the world works, but that’s okay, you’re young and easily manipulated. I’ll make sure France can’t contact you anymore and bring such… horrid and awful ideas to your mind. Got it?”

“I’m not joking, Spain. Don’t act like I’m a child. If you don’t remove these taxes, I’m going to-”

A slap. Well, it had to be expected. Spain was indeed violent, but not so much with South Italy. Yeah, sometimes he got slapped, but that really was the worst he ever got, and it was quite rare in fact.

“Don’t speak up against me. I will send ships here if you continue this pathetic revolution idea of yours. I will take you down by force if you want me to, that’s why I’m going to ask nicely. Will you please stop this nonsense?”

Romano was frightened, yes, but he was ready to confront him. He mentally prepared for days for this and was going to say it.

“No.”

Spain looked embarrassed. He scratched the back of his head and sighed.

“This is it, then. I’m leaving.” Spain announced. He put the wineglass back on the table and kissed Romano on each cheek again, exiting quickly by the front door.

This was the weirdest encounter Italy ever had with his boss. It went smoother than what he expected, and although he would have to face Spanish ships at some point, for now, he was okay, and the revolution was just beginning. His blood was boiling.

* * *

On the 24th of October, South Italy was in a rush.

His state of mind was hazy, he was feeling quite ill from all the turbulence at his home. He was in the middle of a trip to Rome, in the papal states, to meet the leader he would receive.

The rebels weren’t led by Masianello anymore, he had been killed right after Spain left Italy and to say Romano had been mad was an understatement. Spain certainly ordered this assassination, and this was really violent of him. But the rebels had found another leader, going by Gennero Annese. He had, two days earlier, proclaimed the Royal Republic of Naples, the _Serenissima Monarchia repubblicana di Napoli_.

Romano liked his new official name. It matched Veneziano’s and seemed like a big turn in his history. It made him closer to Veneziano and France and was a symbol he was ready to fight against Spain. Moreover, he had used as a motto a replica of his grandfather’s motto.  _Senatus Populusque_ _Neapolitanus_. He was really proud of how this rebellion thing was going, it was going rather smoothly and Spain still hadn’t sent ships to fight him mano a mano.

In Rome, he was to meet Henry of Guise, relative of the old King of Anjou, Rene I. He was the perfect successor to lead Naples to glory. France had sent him a letter to tell him he would attend as well to meet him in person and discuss important matter.

He was, for once, eager to meet France. Although the bastard used to scare him to death because of his constant fighting over him with Spain, he was glad he could join his side. No matter what, France was a strong ally to have and was actually fighting with Spain, the world’s most powerful nation, that was something! Moreover, this Henry of Guise was French and helped bring the two countries closer to one another.

In Rome, while Annese was speaking with Guise, France and South Italy spoke to each other, mostly about money and future trade lines.

“You are doing well, dear.” France told him. “Your Republic will be up in no time at this rate, I’m proud of you.”

“… Thanks, I guess? I don’t like how you’re implying this is surprising of me to do that. Of course I’d succeed. I’m not lame.”

“I know, don’t worry. You’re even pretty strong, I’d say. I support you in the making of your new Republic.”

“Thank you. It is very much appreciated of you.”

“I told your brother of what was happening last time I saw him. He told me to tell you he misses you and would really like to meet you some time.”

“When I’ll be at peace, perhaps we’ll meet.”

“Ahah, I will tell him that, then. Is Spain being bothersome to you? He must’ve reacted poorly to your choices, hasn’t he?”

“He… he was angry, yeah. I mean, nothing surprising coming from him. He slapped me and left, telling me that he’d bring me down with force if he had to.”

“He’s ready to fight, then. Know that I am ready too. I will do my best to protect you from this Spanish jerkface.”

“I hope you’ll keep that promise, bastard.”

Then, they had to part. They kissed each other goodbye and South Italy went back home. He’d have to wait three weeks for Henry of Guise to come to Naples and take the lead of the Republic. The Republic was now officially running, under French protectorate. Spain’s sworn enemy.

* * *

Spain had sent an army to fight the Neapolitan republic.

Guise was helpless. Romano was as well. All they needed to better their situation was for France to attack the Spanish Duchy of Milan and tire the Spaniards out, but it never happened. In fact, France never raised a finger to help Romano in his thirst for freedom.

Guise had tried many things, even trying to attack the Spaniards by behind thanks to a tunnel, but it failed.

He had hoped the Spanish generals would hate each other and create an internal conflict, but it never happened either.

He also avoided an assassination sent by Spain, and Romano was becoming crazy. The almost murderer had been executed, but everything was so dangerous. France was grandly ignoring each of his letters, and that was perhaps a good thing, because Spain had threatened to kill anyone who kept contact with the French, but still, Italy needed help, right now!

Or perhaps Spain had been intercepting all of his letters and prevented him from communicating with the outside world.

Guise could have made a compromise with Spain to give away Sardinia in exchange of freedom for Naples, but he refused. Romano grew more and more suspicious of the man and his people were as well. He suspected he had kept contact with some French upperclassman and didn’t want to tell anyone about it.

Spain kept sending letters to South Italy. They always said the same things.

“ _Give up_.”

“ _Come back_.”

“ _Stop this nonsense_.”

“ _I love you, stop it_.”

In the end, Romano wondered if surrendering wouldn’t just be better. It would prevent more losses and save his weak ass, but Guise didn’t want to give up yet.

So the Neapolitans fought til the end.

And on the 6th of April of the next year, 1948, he lost. He became a Spanish province once again and Spain was overly pleased by this.

He came to Romano’s house with a dazzling smile and his legendary axe.

“Romanito, I’m here to announce you I won. You’re back in my kingdom. Wonderful, isn’t it?”

South Italy had stood up and jerked away from the man. He was lost, he had lost, he didn’t like it.

“I’ve made new rules for you my dear! You’re not allowed to live here anymore. I can’t risk you like this, you’re coming back to Spain. From now on, you’re forever mine.”

He hadn’t answered, he was too scared, too defeated to respond. He was back in hell and was feeling really angry. Towards himself for losing, but also towards France for abandoning him.

Back in Spain, he learned that France actually had sent an army to fight. But he was a month late, and there was nothing left to save in the province.

He would have to wait two centuries for his independence. Spain had calmed down, because he had lost power and importance in the world. His downfall bettered his personality, actually, and Romano came to like the Spaniard more as time passed, because said Spaniard grew nicer. Then, he was reunited with his brother and the world came to what it is today.

So the rest is History.

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty short, but I’m summing up what happened in this year of Neapolitan republic. Also, Spain seems like a really bad guy here, but really cares for South Italy! He’s just stressed out by the war and his economical situation. Also, he’s the boss here, I wouldn’t be surprised he slapped Romano. I mean, it’s still a pretty common way to punish a child (I do not support it though…) and back then physical abuse on children was more common. So actually, just a “slap” is nothing compared to what it could have been.
> 
> The kisses France, Italy and Spain share are just European widespread greetings, those are not meant to be seen as romantic. It is a common way to great friends and family, but is also used with strangers depending on their job and gender.
> 
> South Italy is called many things in this story: “South Italy”, “Italy” and “Romano”.  
> He may also seem a big OOC, but it’s, I think, a good portrayal of him. In most of works, his whole personality is built around insults and verbal violence, I wanted to tone that down a lot there. He’s also a confused adolescent rebelling against his caretaker who has been a sort of father figure to him, so his reaction may seem weird, but take that in account.
> 
> Also, I have sources for these historical facts, being the history book "Histoire de l’Italie", by Pierre Milza. I really respect Italian history and did not mean to offend anyone with this story. I’m actually studying it and used trustworthy sources to make it as accurate as possible, but some things may be off, and I apologize for that.
> 
> Oh and little detail: Romano drank wine at Spain’s house, as it was common in Europe during the Middle Ages to give children wine (water had a bad reputation back then), however in the Roman Empire, it was “forbidden” for children and women to drink wine.
> 
> If you notice any spelling mistake, please tell me. I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> PS: I'm still working on Tino Guardian Angel (my other fic), don't worry, the second chapter will come, I promise!  
> It is not abandoned!  
> PPS: I've reposted the first chapter with corrections, you can check it out right now.


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